


Patience is (sometimes) Not a Virtue

by utanga



Series: Cotton Fluff [1]
Category: North and South - Ambiguous Fandom, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utanga/pseuds/utanga
Summary: Sleeping in separate rooms is NOT conductive to a good nights sleep. And neither John or Margaret like the current arrangement.





	1. John's POV

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a work on ff.net that I cannot find AT ALL! i can't remember the name either, because... me. Let me know how it was because this is my first. I will post this story with both Margaret's and John's perspectives, because I always want to know what was going on in the other person's head. So, naturally, they will have the exact same dialogue. You've been warned.

John Thornton stood at his window, clad only in his trousers. He held a glass-- a very, very small glass-- of brandy in his right hand. His left was currently resting on the window, the burgundy drapes a stark contrast to the black night outside.

He took a small sip of his brandy in his shadowed room. He was not by any means a drinking man, but tonight he made an exception. 

John had married (the now former) Miss Hale in what he was convinced, was the most wonderful, beautiful and the best wedding of the century 3 weeks ago. They had spent the first week in his bed -- in all the sense of the word. But, mill finances and creditors had to be dealt with and so his lonely Margaret had laid in her bed alone for the past 2 weeks. And he was thoroughly sick of it.

He glared at the mill outside his window with a fiery passion, and almost growled. What had once been his pride and joy was now a hindrance. In fact, he was convinced that he would trade it all just to have her in his bed again. Just sleeping. (Although, if she were so inclined... John cleared his throat. He was a gentleman, for heaven's sake!) just so he could wrap his arms around her small body and know with fierce male pride that she was his, and he was undoubtedly hers.

And so, he was drinking. Now that he had had the privilege of holding her in his arms as they slept, John did not know how he could have lived without it. He could not sleep. And yet, in the other room , his wife was doing just that. Sleeping. He glared at his bed, as if hoping she would appear.

John wold have sought her out, but, alas, her bed was too short for his tall, lean body (John knew that his mother, in one last attempt to get even, bought that bed for that particular reason), and he often returned late at night. John would feel guilty for depriving her of the sleep she needed to run their extensive household.

John was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he almost missed the creak of the door connecting his and Margaret's chambers. Almost, but not quite.

Margaret.

The very object of his devotion-his wife!- was in the doorway. Her pale blue satin nightdress clung delicately to her curves. And, she had the most beautiful blush on her face.

"Margaret? Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked a bit hoarsely, turning towards her.

"I--," she took a step inside his room and shut the door with a faint click. "I couldn't sleep." She blushed.

He should not be happy about that, he reminded himself strongly. "What's the matter, dearest?" he asked, setting his glass down on a nearby table and heading toward her. once there, he enveloped her in his embrace, cradling her head on his shoulder. 

"Oh, nothing," was her coy reply.

John narrowed his eyes and frowned. "If you cannot sleep, surely something is wrong," he pressed gently.

Margaret nuzzled his shoulder, and he knew she was trying to find the right words. Eventually, she settles on some and sighs, caressing his neck with her breath. "I missed you."

He hummed in response. "Me, too."

"Then why have you not visited me?" Her voice was soft, but he heard her discontentment.

He traced smooth circular patterns on her back to soothe her. "Margaret, love, I have been busy--"

She broke away from from his embrace, and he hissed from the lack of contact. "I know! But, I would not have complained, even if you were tired.. even if it were late... just to lay in your arms."

He smiled softly and pulled her close again and she surrendered. "Margaret, " her name was a prayer on his lips, "Margaret. Don't you know?" He chuckled softly; his deep, low voice resounding through her bones. "Your bed... it's too small. I'm too tall!"

"Really?" Margaret asked him, incredulous.

"Yes! I'm sorry, love." John told her.

Her only reaction was to snuggle closer to him.

"Margaret," he ventured, "If you should wish to..." he trailed off.

"Yes, John?" Margaret inquired.

"Well, I was just thinking, if you want to, you could sleep with me, in here, every night." Oh, please, please, don't make her start talking about propriety. Or run away. Or say no.

John's fears were quieted when she looked up at him. "Sleep with you, every night?" She repeated after him.

"Every night," he assured her. Oh my. She looked a goddess. His goddess. "Margaret, my dear, you look resplendent in every way," he whispered.

"John, dearest," she whispered back, "you look delectably handsome in every way." she stood on her tiptoes and arches so she's level with his head. Taking his wife's hint, John cupped Margaret's cheeks in his large hands and kissed her deeply. They both shiver from the sensation, but also from the cold. The two lovers broke away after a spell, and slowly made their way to the large four-poster bed. John smiled at her, and pulled down the covers.

"After you." He gestured to the bed, motioning Margaret forward. She blushed, her rosy cheeks alight. she slipped inside and John followed shortly afterward. With an audible sigh, they move together, embracing. They kissed too many times to count before moving on to... more enjoyable things.

The next morning, the servant in charge of John's rooms found their master and mistress in quite the compromising position.


	2. Margaret's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late and I'm sorry! PLEASE comment and give me more prompts to write about! I'll do nearly anything for this fandom except for smut.

Margaret turns on her side for the fifth time in... About two minutes. Why can't she sleep? 

She knows exactly why.

John. He hadn't, well, "visited" her in two weeks! It's not that she's insatiable. She just wants to be cuddled by her husband. She knows John worked late with the mill. Creditors have to be taken care of, and he refuses to let her help. It's a matter of pride for him-- he wants to make her feel like she doesn't have to worry about anything, that he has it all under control, and Margaret can respect that.

What she can't respect is his inability to crawl into bed with her and just cuddle her when he returns for the night! Honestly, what's so hard about that?

Feeling very childish, Margaret kicks off her covers and huffs. Fine. She's done playing this game of cat and mouse. If John won't come to her, she'll go to him. 

Margaret reaches the door before hesitating. It isn't that she is nervous, it is her nightgown that makes her pause. 

She is wearing a white, frilly thing that isn't exactly flattering to her figure. She hates it, and would have worn a different one, except all her other ones are exactly like it. The only one that wasn't white, frilly, and preposterous is the blue, almost sheer one she had worn on her wedding night. Should she wear it? No, it would look to... Forward. 

Eventually, vanity wins out against practicality, and the blue nightgown is put on. 

This time, Margaret actually grabs the door handle that would lead her to John's room before hesitating. 

What if he was sleeping? What if he didn't love her anymore? What if--

"Nonsense. John is not that kind of a man," she chides herself.

The door creaks a little when she opens it and Margaret cringes until she sees John standing up, with a glass of brandy in his hand. And only in his trousers. Oh my. 

"Margaret? Shouldn't you be asleep?" He sounds a bit hoarse. 

Feeling more than just a bit shy, Margaret responds: "I-- I couldn't sleep." She steps inside the room, aware of her red cheeks, wishing they would go away and hoping John can't see it. 

Luckily, he doesn't comment about her blush, but merely sits the brandy down to come hug her and ask, "What's the matter dearest?"

Oh goodness, she can't possibly tell him that! So Margaret settles for the classic reply: "Oh, nothing."

Unfortunately, John sees through that immediately. 

"If you cannot sleep, surely something is wrong," John presses gently. 

Drat. Now what would she say? Margaret nuzzles his shoulder, partly to buy time, but mostly because she could. Well, better get it over with. Margaret sighes. 

"I missed you."

"Me, too." He humms softly, the sound practically settling in her bones. Still, she didn't miss the twinge of annoyance that fought its way up. 

"Then why have you not visited me?"

"Margaret, love, I have been busy--"

Excuses, excuses! She tears herself out of his arms, exasperated. 

"I know! But, I would not have complained, even if you were tired.. even if it were late... just to lay in your arms."

Then John smiles, and Margaret is putty in his arms. 

"Margaret," he whispers, and oh, he says her name like a prayer. 

"Margaret. Don't you know?" He chuckles softly. "Your bed... it's too small. I'm too tall!"

"Really?" Margaret asks him, incredulous. Well, he is rather tall, she supposes (not that she's complaining).

"Yes! I'm sorry, love." 

Margaret snuggles closer, content. 

"Margaret," John speaks, "If you should wish to..." he trails off, seeming to lose his nerve. 

But Margaret is having none of that tonight. 

"Yes, John?" Now it is her turn to probe. 

"Well, I was just thinking, if you want to, you could sleep with me, in here, every night." He suggests. 

What an interesting idea! Margaret rather likes it. 

Sleep with you, every night?" Margaret repeats after him, just to make sure. 

"Every night," John assures her. "Margaret, my dear, you look resplendent in every way," he whispers, eyes transfixed on her face. 

"John, dearest," she whispers back, "you look delectably handsome in every way." Feeling quite daring, Margaret stands on her tiptoes until she was level with his head. John gently cups Margaret's cheeks in his large hands and kisses her senseless. 

This is what she had been missing! They both shiver from the sensation, but also from the cold. They stand there for who knows how long before making their way to the bed. John smiles at her again, and pulls down the covers.

"After you." He gestures to the bed, motioning Margaret forward. She blushes again, her rosy cheeks alight. she manages to slip inside without too much trouble and John follows shortly afterward. With an audible sigh, they move together, embracing. They kiss too many times to count before moving on to... more enjoyable things.

The next morning, the servant in charge of John's rooms found their master and mistress in quite the compromising position


End file.
